The Kabra Family
by Makaria Lee
Summary: They're creepy and they're kooky. Mysterious and spooky. They're altogether ooky. The Kabra Family.
1. Chapter 1

**Everyone loves the Kabra family, but we only know Ian, Natalie, Isabel, and Vikram. And we hardly know anything about Vikram.**

**So, I present to you in the form of a very leniently written series of fics, the Kabra Family.**

**A fair warning: Like some of my other fics, I've previously posted these on tumblr. They'll be edited a little, some new narrative perhaps. Since it's not a linear fic and it's more of a collection of headcanons on the Kabra family (which, in this case, doesn't necessarily mean just Ian and Nat and Izzie and Vik) there will probably be pieces out of order. Natalie might be fifteen in one chapter, and two in the next. I'll write and put them up as I get inspiration and actually write them. So, it'll most likely be out of order (not at first, though).**

**THERE WILL BE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS**

**This first chapter is a combo of two fairly short fics.**

* * *

It was a blob.

His child was a sobbing _blob._

Lilith's light giggle filled the empty void of the hospital room as she took the newborn from Vikram. Once she cradled him in her arms, his crying ceased.

"Crying is the only way babies know how to communicate," Lilith explained, though Vikram had a hard time processing the words.

He had a _son._

"So I don't want any 'Kabras don't cry' excuses, okay?"

A _boy_.

"Vikram," the young nurse tugged on his sleeves, "are you alright?"

Vikram, wide eyed, looked down at the woman who had delivered his son. "A boy."

Lilith sighed. "Isabel isn't going to hate him because of his sex, Vikram." She brought up a finger and wiggled it in front of the sleeping baby's face. "Just because she wanted a girl, doesn't mean she'll hate him."

He reached up to brush the child's forehead, he let out a soft coo. "Sure she will."

Lilith sighed. "Well, Hope or I can adopt him, then." Vikram chuckled. "Or just Hope, I suppose. I assume she's the godmother?" Vikram nodded. "Good choice. She'll outlive me by a long shot."

Vikram took the child, mimicking how Lilith held him to avoid another bout of crying.

He was going to look like Vikram, that much was evident. Lilith had pointed out earlier, and Vikram agreed, that what little wisps of hair he had were definitely curled. His skin tone appeared identical to Vikram's, though one of the other nurses had said not to hold on to that hope. The child hadn't quite opened his eyes yet, but Vikram has read somewhere that it took the color a few days to set anyway.

This blob of a person certainly didn't look like anything formidable, but Vikram had thought the same of his sister. Though his sister didn't exactly turn out to be the best Lucian agent. Vikram would make sure this child's fate would be different, would make sure he could take care of himself.

"What's his name, then?" Lilith asked.

Vikram sighed. Isabel would, quite literally, murder him if he strayed from her plans. "You can pick the middle name," she sneered, "but if you fucking change the first-"

(He had hung up.)

"Ian Raja Kabra."

The child cooed, as if it enjoyed its identity.

* * *

Lilith poked her head in the room and glanced around before entering. She walked towards the couch — the back of which was facing her — and whispered for Vikram. He let out a quiet "Yes", confirming the nurse's belief that his young son was in the room with them.

She looked over the top of the couch, finding a comforting sight. Father and son together, in a way Lilith never thought she'd see the mighty Vikram Kabra. Lying down on the couch, his custom made suit wrinkled, his glasses tossed to the side, one foot with a sock and the other bare, and with a child only months old sleeping on his chest.

She smiled at him, though his eyes were closed. "What are you doing?" She asked softly.

"Bonding." He reached an arm up and laid it over the young boy, like a seat belt. "He's so small."

"He's bigger than he was when he was born."

"I think he's drooling on me."

Lilith giggled, "He's a baby."

The older man sighed, though not in annoyance. "I put him down and he almost immediately fell asleep."

Lilith reached down and smoothed down the babe's hair. "He probably likes your heartbeat. Remembers the sound from the womb. Soothes him."

"Isabel is already trying to convince me that we should have another." He rubbed the small boy's back. "Hardly pays any attention to him."

"Isabel is Isabel."

"Don't I know it."

They were silent for a while, settling in the fate that this poor boy would live. What Isabel would eventually raise him to be, no matter how much she disliked him. Not even just Isabel, the entire Lucian branch. Vikram's time with the boy was limited, Isabel made sure of that. She knew Vikram hated how things were supposed to be. She also knew he was too scared to change it, at least right now he was.

"I'll take him to his room," she reached down to pick the boy up, "so you can get some proper—" Vikram tightened his grip on the boy, but only barely. He didn't make any comment, he didn't need to. His eyes, now open, said enough.

Lilith left the room, closing the door as quietly as she could behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter focuses on Vikram's side of family.**

**Bua - Father's Sister**

**Mamu - Mother's brother**

**-ji - sufix added to a name to denote respect, often for elders**

**Pitaa - Father**

**If you know Hindi and I've done something wrong, please please correct me. Google can only take me so far.**

* * *

Ian was five years old, approximately. A few months added here and there, perhaps, nothing too specific. He was the youngest at the gathering, save his sister. He didn't know where she was right now, probably sleeping, so he didn't count her. She was annoying, anyway, always having nightmares and coming into his room for comfort.

He sat on a stool, swinging his legs back and forth to an imaginary rhythm. His older cousins, Ekram and Indira, were watching over him. Making sure he didn't do something stupid (he argued that he was not stupid, he scored very highly on his last exam, thank-you-very-much). Ian didn't understand why Ekram and Indira always had to watch over him, his father was much older than their mother. So what if they were fifteen? It's not that big of a deal.

Indira walked over to him, a warm smile on her face. It reminded Ian of her mother, his bua. She was a warm, motherly woman. "Raja," she said softly. Ian eased at the use of his second name. They - his father's family - never called him by his first name, but that was fine. He liked Raja. "Why don't you and I go to the living room, huh?" He reached out to grab around her neck, so she could carry him.

Ekram, who was mixing some kind of batter over by the oven, chuckled. "Oh, c'mon, he's gonna learn someday."

"Yes, well," Indira whispered, despite the fact that Ian's head was just below hers, "he doesn't have to learn it at five!"

The older boy clucked his tongue.

"I don't think Mamuji would be very happy to have you cooking that in his kitchen."

Ian rested his head on Indira's shoulder, his vision suddenly obscured by her dark hair. He reached a hand up and placed it on her collar, where her shirt came down to expose a small bit of skin, while she argued with Ekram. Her skin was darker than his, but only by a little. Indira shouted one last thing at her twin brother before stomping out of the room with Ian. The older boy grinned, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

Indira took Ian into the living room, where multiple cousins were lounging around. Some had children clinging to their legs, others were free of such burdens. Indira carried him over to their distant aunt Mitra, whose belly seemed to be swelling again.

They spoke in a dialect of Hindi that Ian didn't quite understand, he was only able to grasp a few simple words. They seemed to be speaking of some kind of baby, probably the reason for Mitra's swelling. He heard his sister's name in there somewhere - her second name, not her first - but he couldn't figure the context. Maybe it wasn't even Hindi.

Another cousin, Ian decided it was Sanjay, came over to say hi. He joined the conversation, further frustrating Ian by the fact that he couldn't understand the conversation. He chose to ignore it, deciding to find his father. He tried to wiggle his way out of Indira's grasp, but she held tight. "I want Pitaa," he said.

"He's busy," She whispered. "Please, Raja, hold still, Mamuji is busy. You'll see him later, I promise."

He stopped wiggling, though now insisted on seeing his mother. He was assured that Isabel was visiting friends in North America, she wasn't even in the house. Ian gave up, going back to clinging to his cousin. She was rather impressive, holding him for so long.

Ian must've dozed off, because Ekram had called Indira back to the kitchen once his concoction was complete. She wrinkled her nose at it. Ian, however, lit up - it looked just like the brownies his mother's friend made for him.

Ekram cut out a square and waved it in front of Ian's face, asking if he wanted some.

Indira jerked him back, almost yelling, "You cannot give him those! He's five!" Ekram just rolled his eyes, placing the brownie on the counter as he assured his sister that he knew better than to give his younger cousin whatever-it-was. Ian had stopped listening.

He wiggled once more, actually managing to be released from Indira's grip. Probably a combination of being tired and being occupied by yelling at her brother. He looked towards them, making sure that neither of them were paying attention to him. He reached up towards the counter, feeling for the single piece. He grasped it in his hand, bringing it down to eye level.

He raised it to his mouth right as Ekram noticed him. "Raja, no, no!" He cried out.

But Ian had eaten it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Bhaiyaa - Elder brother**

* * *

His footsteps echoed down the halls, providing a muffled rhythm to the silent space. He reached out, a little hesitant, and only opened the door a few inches before stopping. He knew he was early, but apparently Isabel thought it was alright to start the meeting before he arrived.

"I don't care about the possibility of traumatic side effects, he needs to be punished when he doesn't do what's right."

No, she hadn't started the meeting.

"B-But Madame," Vikram recognized the voice, it was the Lucian psychologist he had hired when Ian started to act strangely, not like himself. "Th-the boy could suffer serious psychological effects if you continue to do the therapy as you are!"

Vikram felt a cold shock go down his spine.

"Why don't you just do what you're hired to do?"

"I am! I'm alerting his parents about the problem! And the problem is your electroshock therapy punishments! Electroshock therapy isn't even a proper punishm-"

Vikram swung the door open, forming a crack when the knob hit the wall. "What are you doing?" He seethed.

Calm and collected as ever, Isabel simply crossed her arms. "You're early."

"Yes, I thought it'd be best, seeing as today's meeting is of the utmost importance." Vikram walked over to and glared at his wife. "What have you been doing to Ian?"

She looked at him as if she couldn't understand what he was angry about. "It's a punishment, of course. He doesn't do what he's told, so he learns what happens when he doesn't."

"M-Madame," the poor psychologist called out, "with the shocks you're administering, the boy could suffer permanent brain damage, or even de-death. In fact, I'm quite surprised he isn't dead!"

If Vikram could've become any more angry at that point, he was sure Isabel would've been dead. Reflecting back on it, it probably would've been best to kill her at that point. But he didn't. Instead, he turned around and walked away from her, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm down. As much as he disagreed with her, he did need Isabel.

"He's eight years old," he said, knowing full well that whatever Isabel said would just make him angrier.

"And?"

"He's a child! Children make mistakes!"

"Mistakes that must be corrected."

Vikram turned towards her, but did not walk up to her. "He's your son, Isabel, whether you like it or not. Whether or not you were the one who carried him for nine months, it was still your egg in the surrogate!"

This didn't seem to phase her. Of course, she wasn't there when Ian had been born, hadn't even been in the same country. She had been there with Natalie. And the only reason she loved Natalie was because she expected her to become her. To become Isabel. Ian was useless to Isabel, of course she wouldn't care.

And that was why Isabel now looked at Vikram as if he were a young child, as if he was the one to be chastised. "My son? I don't even know the boy's middle name."

Vikram turned toward the door, grabbing the knob to slam it on his way out. "Raja. His name is Raja."

* * *

His sister picked up before the first ring ended. "What's wrong?"

"Isabel is a bitch and I need to get the kids away from her before it's too late."

Mahesa scoffed. "You just now realized that?" Her accent was thick. Vikram frowned, another reminder of the childhood he wished he could forget. "Honestly, Nikhil and I have been trying to plant that idea into your head since Isabel announced she wanted a surrogate. What kind of a mother doesn't want to carry her children when she is fully able to?"

"This isn't the time for rhetorical questions, Mahesa. Isabel is giving Ian electroshock therapy as a punishment method."

Mehasa was silent, he could hear sizzling in the background. "Electroshock therapy is a therapy for a reason, Vikram. If anything, she's helping him."

"The psychologist said the convulsions she was inducing were far too great from him, that he was surprised Ian isn't dead."

"One moment," Mahesa screamed at her son, something about dinner. "Vikram, Raja will be fine, but you do need to get them both away from her. She is evil, Vikram, you have been told this."

He sighed. He knew Isabel was a far too negative influence on their children, but they always seemed so happy. Natalie adored her, and Ian didn't shy away from her at all. What's worse... they were wary around him. Isabel had given him most of the workload for the branch and their business, he didn't get to see them often. And when he did... he was probably a mess...

He thought of Hope for a moment, but willed her away quickly.

"I fear for Priya most of all," Mahesa whispered, as though she didn't mean for Vikram to hear, "the way she idolizes Isabel is frightening." It was.

"Mahesa, do you have any room for us?"

"Always, Bhaiyaa."

They hung up shortly after. Vikram tried to convince himself to get up and pack and gather the children, but he couldn't move from his place on the bed. It almost felt symbolic, sitting on edge...

The door to the master bedroom opened then, Isabel walked in and stood in front of her husband, casting a menacing shadow over him.

"You missed the meeting." She hissed.

"You force too much work on me, I decided I needed a break."

"It was important."

"You can handle it yourself, you're not useless."

Isabel put her hand on Vikram's shoulder, which may been comforting in other case, and dug her nails into his skin, which is why it wasn't comforting. He didn't flinch.

"I'm taking the children to visit Lilith," he'd thought of the excuse beforehand, "she's having a second baby soon. She was there for us, both times, and I want to be there for her."

Isabel scoffed. "Planning to switch that one, too?"

Vikram scowled at the mention of what they'd done. It was his idea in the first place, but he'd never imagined that Lilith and her newborn would be their target. One of his friends, who had wanted nothing more than to be a mother, and he had taken that from her.

"No. You've got the experiment how you want it, we don't need to do it again."

"Yes," she mused, "Ele is doing very well... Why bring Natalie and Ian?"

"They like Lilith, she helped take care of them when they were young."

Isabel removed her hand, leaving Vikram's skin stinging. "Are you planning on visiting Hope's kids? Using Lilith as a decoy?"

He hadn't thought of that. That might've been better than taking them to Mahesa, but not now that Isabel suspected it. "No," he said, "you've made it perfectly clear what will happen if that occurs."

She frowned, not convinced of his truth. "I have monitors there. I'll know."

"I know."

"Your sister, then?"

He wrinkled his nose. "Why would I take them back to India? I don't want to listen to them complain." That seemed to ease Isabel a little. She'd only been to the country once, during the monsoon season. Vikram doubted Isabel bothered to research the rest of the year's climate, she'd assume the children would have the same reaction she did.

She was still skeptical, still had an eyebrow raised. "What are you planning?"

"To visit Lilith," he replied smoothly, "and to give the children a break."

She scowled, but didn't protest. Vikram could see that she still did not believe him, but his only other option was to run away from power. She knew, and he did as well, that Vikram would never do that.

But she would monitor Lilith, he was sure, she would find out about his lie. Perhaps she already guessed it - now that he thought about it, she probably had - and allowed for them to leave so that Vikram still had a sense of power.

"Having children has made you weak," Isabel muttered before she left.

And perhaps it had.

* * *

The moment Ian was told what was happening - or, rather, the lie that Vikram had decided on - it was evident that he suspected it was not the truth. Normally Vikram might've felt proud, his son could read into the excuses of an adult and judge if it was the truth or not, but this was not the time for him to be questioning his father's authority. Vikram gave him the stern instruction to pack his things and be done by the time he came back. Ian simply nodded (though that was Vikram's fault, it was the middle of the night).

He left his son's room, only to be confronted by Natalie.

"Whacha do-in?" She mumbled, still half asleep.

"I could ask the same," he bent down to her level, "I was just about to go and find you. What are you doing up?"

"A nightmare," the young girl yawned. She raised her arms and wiggled her fingers in an attempt to resemble some sort of claw, dropping a stuffed animal in the process. "A big witch tries ta eat me, but I wake up 'fore she does. Then I walk over to Ian and he patects me while I sleep." She picked up a stuffed animal from the floor - Ian's. "Sometimes he gives me Mr. Buttons."

Vikram hadn't known that. He didn't think Ian and Natalie were particularly close, they always seemed to fight when he saw them. Avoided each other.

"What d'ya need me for?" She blinked her eyes a few times.

Vikram took a few moments to register her words, too caught up in his thoughts. "We're going on a vacation."

She lit up. "The Bahma veella?" He smiled at his daughter's slurred words.

He shook his head. "We're going to visit Bua."

Natalie frowned. "You mean Aunt Mahesa?"

"Bua, Natalie."

She shook her head rapidly. "Mummy said no Hindi or Sanskrit."

Vikram's face fell. His entire past - the good and the bad - his entire culture, their culture, all that he was trying to give on to his children, wilted by his wife in a mere sentence.

He put his hand on Natalie's shoulder and gave her a stern, but he hoped not too demanding, look. "Don't listen to Mummy. Go pack your things." She nodded a bit hesitantly, but scampered away all the same.

* * *

"Where's Bickerduff?" Natalie moaned.

They'd been waiting for thirty minutes, almost certainly missing their flight. Vikram had gotten tired and sat down on the front steps, earning strange glances from his children (Isabel had probably taught them her "no ground" rule). At some point in their wait, Natalie produced a fan out of her bag, which she was now directing at her father.

He turned his head toward her and smiled, thanking her. She smiled widely.

Ian was silent.

The main doors opened with a loud creak, all three of them turning back to face Isabel. She smiled sweetly.

"Your trip is cancelled."

The hairs on the back of Vikram's neck stood up. "What did you do?"

Isabel feigned surprised. "Nothing!" She turned down to Natalie and grabbed the girl's hand. "Your aunt Mahesa called and said you couldn't stay after all."

Vikram stood up, about to yell at Isabel, when Ian spoke up.

"'Bua'." He said softly.

Isabel looked at him strangely. "What?"

"It's 'bua'. Papa said we call her 'bua'."

Vikram relaxed a little, if only from the shock of his son's words.

Isabel sneered ever so slightly. "Come, Natalie, let's get your things put back where they belong." She tugged the girl away, a few servants coming out to pick up her and Ian's bags, but not Vikram's.

She turned around suddenly, giving Vikram a triumphant grin before walking back into the house.

He let out a breath of air he hadn't realized he was keeping in, and patted Ian's back a few times before gathering his things and moving back up the stairs. "We'll get away, I promise."

Ian had no idea what he was speaking of, and that was just fine with Vikram.


	4. Chapter 4

**I hope ya'll know basic French.**

* * *

Nine year old Ian Kabra was uncomfortable. His father had woken him up at some ungodly hour and shoved him into a new suit - which meant that the suit was horribly itchy. He tried his hardest, waiting for whoever their guest was, to not scratch his back or to take the wretched thing off of him and just leave it on the floor.

But his father was standing next to him, so Ian had to be on his best behavior, lest he be punished again.

The door opened with a loud creak, bringing in light that burned Ian's eyes. He tried not to reach up to shade his vision, choosing instead to squint. A few of their servants walked in, suitcases that Ian didn't recognize in hand, before the guests did. A tall, plain woman walked in, holding hands with a younger girl - her daughter, perhaps.

His father walked towards the guests, holding his hand out to greet the woman. "Aurélie," he said, beckoning Ian forward, "so good to see you. _Comment allez-vous_?"

She smiled. "Well enough."

He looked down, towards the girl. "And I gather that this is Cécile?"

The girl smiled, showing a missing tooth. "_Oui_."

He nodded, then placed a hand on Ian's shoulder. "My son, Ra- Ian."

The older woman seemed confused for a moment, but chose not to comment. "We will be talking about the plan now, yes?"

His father nodded. "If you'll follow me," but before they left, he turned towards the children, "play nice."

Cécile's mother gave her a kiss before whispering '_je t'aime_'. Cécile smiled at her mother, though that left once they exited the room.

She turned to Ian, another smile lighting her up. Ian didn't know what to do or say, so they stood in silence. Cécile's new smiled turned into a frown. "Are you mute?" She had a slight accent.

Ian was the one frowning now. "No!"

"So why do you not talk?" She crossed her arms. "Are hosts not supposed to be nice to guests?"

Ian's frown deepened. "What do you want to do then?"

She pursed her lips, looking around the large entrance hall. "I want some strawberries," she finally decided.

He scrunched his nose in disgust. "Strawberries?"

"Yes._ J'aime les fraises_." She tapped her foot. "I want some."

Ian thought about rejecting her for a moment, but decided that his father's consequences for such would not be worth it. He grumbled some form of "follow me" and led her into the kitchen. He didn't usually go in the kitchen - that was where the servants ate, why would he want to? - but he snuck in every now-and-again for a sweet treat. Especially when Bua visited, he adored her gulab jamun.

Ian pushed the door open, revealing the family's chef hard at work to prepare a meal for his regular patrons and the guests. A few servants moved about, the chef's assistants weaving between them. Ian walked over to the refrigerator, most of the staff ignoring him and the young girl.

He opened the door and scanned for strawberries. Once he saw some, he pulled them out and turned to the chef. "You're not going to need any strawberries, are you?"

"What?" Ian repeated his question, the chef never looking up at him. "No, no."

Ian closed the door and handed them to Cécile, who took them eagerly. She looked around for a moment, for a place to sit. Ian was about to direct her to the dining hall when she ducked under the servant's table. Ian wrinkled his nose in disgust yet again, but he followed her under the table regardless.

"Why here?"

She shrugged, pulling out her first strawberry.

They stayed under the table for a while, Cécile eating her strawberries and Ian rejecting her each time she offered one to him.

She didn't eat the whole package, thankfully, and gave it back to Ian to take care of. They climbed out from under the table, much of the staff was gone to other duties by now. Ian placed the strawberries back where he found them, and turned around the to question the strange girl.

But she kissed him before he could, right on the lips, effectively silencing him. "_Merci, mon lion_." She smiled widely, showing her missing tooth once again, as if the nickname was the most clever thing in the world.


	5. Chapter 5

**Have a short update, my beautiful friends.**

* * *

Ian usually had no problem at all talking with his family - his father's family, that is, his mother's family was hardly ever present - but the day Ekram sat him down to have The Talk would be the day Ian would feel his most uncomfortable.

He was fifteen. His engagement to Cécile had just been announced at the annual Lucian Gala (his father making a miraculous appearance, despite supposedly hiding out in Brazil, alongside Cécile's grandmother to introduce the "happy" couple. Vikram disappeared again after the night's end without so much as a word to his son or daughter). It was two days after the Gala when Ekram called him over to the guest room he was staying in (the Gala being held in the Kabra Mansion, and Ian's paternal family deciding to stay over for a few days before and after the event). Ekram told him to sit down on the bed, which he did, then the older boy sat on a chair carefully positioned across from the bed. His hands were folded, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair so that his hands covered his mouth. They were silent for a long while.

"So, you're fifteen."

Ian raised an eyebrow, he'd been fifteen for a month now. "Yeah."

"And your dad is pretty much dead beat."

Ian's stomach sank, he did not answer.

"So you need someone to give you The Talk." Before Ian could protest, Ekram held up his hand. "Now, Raja, I know how embarrassing it is. Trust me, I know. I'll make it as straightforward as possible, no birds or bees."

"Ekram, I-"

But he just spoke louder. "You and Cécile are going to get married someday, so someday you're going to have sex. Being fifteen, I'm sure you know-"

"Ekram!"

"- what that is, so we'll skip it. Don't get her pregnant before you get married, though, 'cuz that's a big no-no. Now, if you do have sex before you get married, it's best to-"

"Ekram, please!"

"-be safe about it. Real safe, kay? Meena and I learned that the hard way, but we were lucky. Oh, this is a good opportunity, my son-"

"Ekram I already know!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I know you do, you're fifteen. But you're still a virgin-"

"No, I'm not!"

Ekram raised up in his chair, obviously shocked by Ian's statement. He opened and closed his mouth many times, moved his head around to view Ian in a different angle, but he never spoke. He choked on words a few times, but he never made full sentences. Eventually he forced out: "You sly dog." Ian's cheeks reddened. It was a few more minutes before Ekram spoke against. "When?"

"The Gala," Ian mumbled. "Cécile and I," he waved his left hand around, wrongfully leading Ekram to believe that they'd actually had sex. It was just a handjob. "Did it under one of the tables."

Ekram slowly broke out a wolfish grin. "You sly dog."

"Are we done?"

Ekram chuckled. "Yeah, man, we're done. An older woman, too. Better than your dear old cousin Ekram."

Ian closed the door without looking back.

* * *

**Also, I've decided that I've tortured you enough. The brownies that Ian ate when he was five?**

**Were hash-brownies. Be careful googling that if you don't know what it is.**


	6. Chapter 6

They all came, but no one cared.

Ian had specifically stated that the dress code was white, yet most of the Cahills came in black. Amy was in black, Daniel was in black, Hamilton was in black, Reagan was in black, Nellie was in black, Fiske was in black, Jonah was in black, Phoenix was in black, Sinead was in black, Ned was in black, Ted was in black. Everyone was in black.

Except for his family. He was in white, Mahesa was in white, Nikhil was in white, Ekram was in white, Indira was in white, Vrisini was in white, Sanjay was in white, Amir was in white, Ravi was in white, Umesh was in white, Mitra was in white, Elizabeth was in white, Spencer was in white, David was in white, Benjamin was in white, Cécile was in white. Elizabeth had even made her parakeet wear a white bowtie.

It was easy to point out who actually cared about the young girl. It was odd, Ian thought, having a small bit of black in the ocean of white. There was so much family there, so many who knew Priya. There were so few that knew Natalie.

He wondered if the turnout of his funeral would hold similar results.

There was a person who wasn't at the funeral that should have been. Ian had spent a month tracking him down, finding his aliases and his addresses, in order to invite him to the funeral.

But their father wasn't there.

Ian tried to tell himself that it was an expected result, why should he have cared about his only daughter after he abandoned her? But there was something in Ian that wanted him there, just to confirm that he actually cared. Amy had told him what she saw when she was near death, if Isabel could hold out in the end, why couldn't Vikram? Why couldn't Ian have a stable family?

He did have one, of course. He looked over to the spot of blue in the white crowd, that small little parakeet that marked the small little girl he called his best friend. He had Elizabeth, he had Spencer and David and Benjamin. He had Cécile. He had Mahesa and Indira and Ekram and Vrisini and Nikhil.

He looked over towards the black. Were they his family? They knew Ian, yes, but that did not know Raja. Just as they had not known Priya, just as they would never know Priya.

No, he decided. They were not his family, they were his friends. Or starting to become, rather.

Evan had known Raja, just a little bit. He had been utterly annoying at first, Ian would admit to himself (and only himself) that jealousy got in the way of getting to know the lanky boy with awkward glasses. As time went on, and especially after Sinead was revealed the mole, they had gotten closer. Evan had revealed to him how scared he was of losing Amy to Jake, to Ian even. Evan had defended him against his own girlfriend. They shared interests, shared dislikes and likes. They would have been great friends, time permitting.

But time did not permit, and he lost one of the few people who knew Raja, even if he only knew him a little bit.

Evan's funeral had been the week before, Ian had shown up in white. He was the only one to wear white, but not the only one to cast away the black-tie tradition. His older sister - Ariana? - had come wearing a tie-dye dress. Ian found out later that she had made it with Evan, he had a shirt that matched. They were close. As close as Ian was to Natalie.

He didn't want to look at the casket, didn't want to see the last thing that kept him in the world lying along with roses and water lilies and magnolias and desmodium. He didn't want to see Natalie looking better than she ever had alive, because it didn't do her justice. She wasn't quiet like him, wasn't content with being by herself, wasn't silent. She was loud, she was happy, and she loved being with people. She was _alive_ and that's who she was. She didn't deserve to look better dead. It disgraced her.

She deserved to be alive.

She deserved to be the one standing in his place, deciding whether or not to look into a casket that contained her beloved sibling.

She wasn't supposed to die, he was. He was supposed to sacrifice himself for the greater good, make a good name for the Kabras of the future and for Natalie.

But she had died in his place.

It was an accident. She hadn't been paying attention.

If she were only just a smidgen more aware...

His attention was drawn away from his thoughts by a light squawk, followed by the familiar voice of Saphir squeaking out a "So sorry, so sorry". Elizabeth smiled up at him, wearing a white dress that Natalie herself had gifted her. Her shoulders weren't covered, which was strange for Elizabeth. He figured it was because Natalie hated all of her little jackets used to cover up what would have otherwise been shown.

The short girl reached out for Ian's hand and squeezed it. After a moment, he squeezed back and offered a smile. Saphir continued his condolences.

Cécile came up and joined them, giving Ian a small kiss. She cradled his head in her heads, giving him a smile he had never seen on her but once before: after her child had died. She and Natalie had always gotten into fights, but Ian had seen the few moments where they were kindly. They cared for one another, whether Natalie wanted to admit it or not. Ian remembered one cold afternoon, after staying late at work, coming home to Natalie and Cécile cuddled up under a quilt, some silly French drama playing on the television. He'd knew he would be alright with Cécile then.

She brought him down for a second kiss, though she placed this one on his forehead. She whispered something to him, a little sentence they had made up when they were kids.

Benjamin tried to joke with him when he came by, something he wasn't quite good at. He made Ian chuckle a few times, which seemed to please the pale boy, but nothing drew away from the gravity of the situation. Questions of culture were ask, as Benjamin loved nothing more than culture, and that certainly helped Ian get his mind off of his sister. Until, of course, Benjamin asked if Holi would be celebrated. Ian said it would, they would have it at the Kabra Mansion, and they would throw Natalie's favorite colors. Benjamin thought that was nice.

He gave Ian a long hug, something that Ian was quite touched by. The autistic boy rarely showed comfort in physical interaction with others.

People came by him, many simply stating how sorry they were before moving on. Some of them, the people he was closer to, gave him hugs and kisses and spoke to him. Indira, bless her little heart, started crying halfway through their conversation. Ekram's son was silent for once, save for a small comment he gave to Ian.

"I miss her."

Ekram tried to hush him, but Ian had replied to the young boy anyway.

"I miss her too."

That's all he said of Natalie that night. Others tried to talk to him about her, but he refused to comment. He would simply nodd, smile, laugh. A few times, tears were wiped from eyes, but Ian didn't break down until everyone was gone. Until he was alone.

Cécile and Elizabeth and Benjamin found him, curled up on his bed, trying not to claw his eyes out. They huddled around him, didn't leave even when he yelled at them to. Cécile ran her hands through his hair, Elizabeth was leaning against him with her arms around his shoulders, and Benjamin moved over to the CD player and put in Ian's classical mix.

Elizabeth started telling him about Terry, how wonderful he was and how it felt when he was gone. Ian had never known Terry, never even really saw a glimpse of him when he was alive, but he knew that he meant so much to Elizabeth. As much as Ian had probably meant to Natalie. She hardly ever told the story, it hurt too much. Ian knew she meant to be comforting, and — in a strange way — it sort of was, knowing he wasn't the only one amongst his closest friends who knew this loss.

Cécile began to hum to him once Elizabeth was finished. Unfortunately, it clashed rather horrifically with the classical music playing in the background. Thankfully, Cécile seemed to notice this and started humming as best she could to Bach. She was also comforting, calming his most violent nightmares in seconds.

Benjamin, Ian would find out later, had found one of Ian's old notebooks. He doodled in it, little cartoon figures of Ian and Natalie. There faces were blank, as Benjamin usually drew his people, except for one unusual thing: they were both smiling. Natalie was dressed in a white gown, large wings coming off from her back. Ian was dressed in his trademark suit. They were holding hands, but Natalie's feet were off the ground, as if she was hovering.

Ian felt someone beside him as he tacked the picture onto his wall. A warm presence, a nice presence. On his other side, there felt like another person. This one seemed more stiff, but it was still warm.

He knew it was Natalie and Isabel. He knew that they would always be there for him, that Natalie's death had changed Isabel for the better. He knew that he would never be alone, even when he felt like he was the only person left who felt any sort of positive feelings for himself.

He wouldn't be alone and that's all he needed.

He took one last look at the picture before he left the room. Benjamin was no artist, that was for sure, but most of the details he put into his doodles meant something. The smiles especially, Ian had never seen a Benjamin Barrows pictures that contain any facial features. Then he noticed, Natalie was levitating fairly far up. Ian chuckled.

For once, she was at Ian's height.


	7. Chapter 7

Things had been alright. The Vespers were done with, he and Natalie came home safe and sound, and, for the most part, everyone he loved was alive and well.

Their mother's closet became a shrine of sorts. They talked about getting rid of her things, donating them or something, but they never did anything with them. They just stayed there and collected dust. Ian expected Natalie to pick up her odd morning ritual, but he never saw Natalie go into their parent's room. She always came to him.

Bickerduff called Ian down one day - in the middle of a good sale, too. Ian wasn't sure what to expect - their mother magically back from the grave? - but he wasn't shocked to see his father standing in the doorway, suitcases stacked behind him.

"I needed to find myself." Vikram had said, as if Ian were the adult and he the child.

"That's fine." Ian lied.

"I should've warned you."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are."

"Three years is a long time."

"It is."

"I hear your mother is dead."

"She is."

Vikram nodded. "May I?"

Ian honestly did think about letting him in, letting him be apart of the family again. He was their father after all, and heaven knows Natalie needed some parental figure after all she'd been through.

But Ian told his father no, that he would have to earn his place beside them again. He expected Vikram to be angry, to force his way in, but his father simply nodded and turned away. Ian didn't shut the door until Vikram's taxi was out of view.

They had a small Holi celebration a few months later, Ian's paternal family coming over for the one day of the year the Kabra children didn't mind getting messy. Vikram was there, and Elizabeth and Cécile made surprise visits as well. Ian and Benjamin had a video chat at the end of the day, Ian covered in colorful powders and Benjamin painting his face to match. It was a nice little holiday, a wonderful change from the Vespers. Despite the fact that her hair was covered in various shades of the rainbow, Ian hadn't seen Natalie that happy in too long a time.

Elizabeth had to leave to go back to school, but Cécile decided to stay. Ian wasn't exactly sure where their relationship was at this point - the last time he'd seen her, really seen and talked with her, she was still getting over the loss of her child. She was dating some Italian fellow then, but he wasn't sure if they were still a thing. Cécile wasn't one to really exercise boundaries, so Ian wouldn't be surprised if she were in a relationship but decided to stay with Ian. It didn't matter though, ian was excited to have another familiar face around, after everything that had happened.

Vikram continued to spend time with them, helping Ian with the business and taking Natalie on her shopping trips. He even got rid of Isabel's stuff for them, though Ian wasn't sure exactly where he had sent the stuff. Slowly, very slowly, Vikram wiggled his way back into his children's life.

He wouldn't go with them to the reunions, though. Ian knew, or suspected - it was just too awkward. After everything he'd done, with all the images (false or otherwise) people had of him, it would just be too awkward. Ian didn't mind it much, though he knew Natalie did. It meant they weren't really a family.

Ian didn't mind because Cécile came with them. It helped having her there when Amy was with Jake, right in front of her previous boyfriend with whom she had broken up with just to date Jake.

Evan was a good guy, he and Ian had managed to get close during their days in the command center. Along with Benjamin, Evan was one of Ian's only male friends. They'd gotten closer since the end of the Vesper situation, Ian even considered inviting him to the Holi celebration (he decided not to because he didn't know if Evan would be comfortable with it, wasn't sure where Evan was in their friendship).

He was twenty-three during the next biggest moment of his life: he met, through Cécile, a girl named Sadie. By this point in time, Ian already had three college degrees and a Ph.D on the way, Natalie was getting ready to begin her own studies, and Vikram had finally been let back into their lives. Cécile was dating the nurse - Samuel? - and Ian wouldn't be surprised if marriage was in the works. She had moved in with Samuel a month before introducing Ian to Sadie, who was their neighbor.

Ian was bringing Cécile a document - something that he hoped would help her mother - and Sadie just so happened to be in the house. Apparently, she and Cécile got along amazingly well. Cécile introduced them briefly before scurrying into the kitchen to call her cousin and inform her of the wonderful news.

She reminded him instantly of Amy. A shy smile, bookish in a way, bright gem-like eyes, and dark hair that contrasted her pale skin. She had a pair of red-rimmed glasses that caged her sapphire eyes, though allowed the brightness to shine through. She was small in stature, though had a bit of weight on her, and seemed able to curl up into a ball very easily (she would later tell him that she did gymnastics in school and even had some medals, but had to stop when she entered college - "thus the weight!" she would laugh). She gave him a small wave and said hello, in a voice much too deep to remind him of Amy's soprano (deep is misleading - she wasn't alto or anything, but she certainly wasn't soprano).

He gave her a nod, then a somewhat awkward hello.

"I'm Sadie," she was American.

"Yes, Cécile-"

"Right."

"Cécile told me you were working on a doctorate?" Her eyes lit up a bit, he noticed.

He nodded. "Just a business degree. Hoping to make a little more money."

She nodded. "I plan to get a Ph.D sooner or later," she sighed, "it'll probably be much, much later."

He sat down on the couch - the spot he knew well was Samuel's and Samuel's alone. "In what?"

She smiled sheepishly, as if it was embarrassing. "Psychology. Maybe Criminology, if I can ever decide on a major."

"You're young, then?"

"Nineteen."

"Twenty-three."

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and readjusted her glasses. "Same as my sister," she stuck her tongue out as if she were disgusted.

Ian chuckled lightly. "I promise I'm nothing like your sister."

"I hope not, it would really ruin the image."

He leaned towards her and rested his forearms on his knees. "And what image is that?"

She smiled. "That of a very nice, very caring, older brother."

Cécile had told Sadie his story long ago, it appeared. Described to her - as she called it - his "wonders". She seemed utterly thrilled to meet someone who was actually nice to their younger sibling, who cared about their existence.

When he told Natalie of her, she seemed to not care at all.

Ian did, he wanted to meet her again. Wanted to know why a nineteen year old college student from America was in London - it seemed too early in her education to be traveling abroad. He wanted to know why she chose to go - possibly, if she "can ever decide on a major" - into the criminal justice programs.

Most importantly, however, he wanted to bask in her wonder of him.

They didn't meet again until about a month later - when Ian had another excuse to visit Cécile. They were baking together - the American teaching the French woman how to not burn her kitchen down - when Ian knocked on the door. Ian invited Sadie out for a walk, with Cécile giving him a sly grin as they left.

They were very silent for a very long time - perhaps Ian asking to see her again was too sudden in their relationship? - before Sadie surprised him.

It had only stopped raining mere minutes ago, but Sadie seemed entranced by a very large puddle. When Ian asked her what was wrong, she said, mournfully, "I don't have my wellies."

So they had to go back to her apartment, grab her wellies, all so the young girl could walk and jumped her way through the large puddles.

A few years ago, Ian would have turned up his nose and left her there on the corner. He wanted to do that now, in fact, but Sadie had grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him in to jump with her.

It had only been their second meeting, but Ian was certain he didn't want to let her go.

Natalie also made a wonderful discovery that very year. A boy named Jackson - a guitar toting Scott - began pursuing her heart. By her birthday, just four months after they'd met, Natalie and Jackson were engaged.

Ian didn't mind, Jackson was actually fairly intelligent. It was Vikram who didn't care for the boy, calling him a reckless stuntsman, but Natalie refused to let her father's opinion get in the way of true love (true love evidently forms after just four months in Natalie's mind).

Amy and Jake got married within the next few years, Cécile and Samuel as well. Jonah and Elizabeth - the oddest couple imaginable to Ian - began a relationship of their own. Benjamin got his dream job at the Smithsonian museum, and would often complain to Ian often about how one of the girls at work wouldn't leave him alone. Ian would just laugh.

Hamilton and Sinead had started their own relationship, despite the girl's betrayal. Evan had long moved on from Amy, and even Dan had found himself a girlfriend.

Overall, it seemed like the Cahill family was starting to become a little normal.

When he was twenty-six, two years into his relationship with Sadie, he was getting ready to have his first child.

Unplanned, though Sadie seemed excastitic. As her stomach grew larger, Ian's nervousness grew with it. Natalie was more than excited to fill in the role of aunt, whereas Vikram was not looking forward to being called "grandfather".

He started noticing, right around the time the baby was supposed to be born (it was a girl, they were going to name her Priya, after Natalie), things started to get weird. Words seemed to float around in front of him, letters changing to form completely new words. They disappeared back to normal before he could properly read them, but the sense of unease was ever present. People started saying strange things to him, people he had never met when turn towards him and command him to wake up, despite the fact that they were walking down the street.

Soon, he began to see and hear the words everywhere. A woman stopped him in the street and pleaded it with a complete poker-face and continued on her way after.

The contacts in his phone changed to WAKE UP, Sadie would ask him to wake up just before they went to bed. It was in his business reports, on graphic tees, on windows, on menus, on television, everywhere.

Everything, everyone, was asking him to wake up but he just did not want to. If he woke up he would have to face reality, have to come to terms with what had happened and he just couldn't do that.

He couldn't do that because Natalie and Evan were dead and he couldn't live with that. He should've been able to save Natalie, but he couldn't. He should've given Evan combat tips, but he didn't. He couldn't deal with that, he couldn't deal with them being gone when he could've helped he couldn't wake up.

But he did wake up. He was put on anti-depressants that wouldn't help and was given a therapist that he would never visit.

He went back to that house - that giant, empty house - alone. Natalie wasn't by his side and Vikram certainly wasn't coming back.

He couldn't video chat with Evan like they'd planned to, couldn't help Natalie put away their mother's clothes, couldn't babysit Rosie with her brother and complain about how messy children were. He couldn't walk Natalie down the aisle, couldn't even attend the wedding. He couldn't give his best mate girl advice, couldn't boast that he was the one who put Evan with his true love.

Cécile moved in with him soon after, so he wasn't completely alone. She was his therapist, holding him when he needed her and making him laugh otherwise. She had Samuel come over occasionally to help her with him. Samuel was a joy but Ian didn't feel keen to the idea of being a third wheel in his own house.

It was when he was twenty-three - he'd long moved out of that lonely mansion and into an apartment - when he quite literally bumped into a girl who reminded him of Amy.

Ian insisted on picking up her books for her, to which she did not object. He stood back up and looked at her in the eye. She had beautiful sapphire eyes, cased in red-rims, and dark brown hair that contrasted with her lightly tanned skin.

"Thank you," she was American. "I just moved in. I think we're neighbors." She held her hand out for him to shake. "Sadie Hawthorne."

Ian took a moment to process her words before breaking out the biggest grin he'd ever had. "Ian Kabra."

* * *

Based off of the creepypasta "Wake Up" which you can easily find by googling "wake up creepypasta"


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